Читать книгу When I Found You - Kate James - Страница 13

CHAPTER THREE

BY THE TIME they reached Ariana’s car, Logan had somehow convinced her to have a drink with him instead. He suggested Buster’s Beach House Bar.

Ariana had never been there, but Logan must have frequented the place, if the number of people who said hello or had a quick word with him were any indication.

He motioned for her to precede him to the back of the room, and she slid into a corner booth. A waitress appeared almost before he sat down.

“Hey, Carly,” Logan greeted her.

“Good to see you, Jagger. The usual?” she asked and gave him a flirtatious smile. It made Ariana wonder about the relationship Logan and the waitress had. She felt guilty about her curiosity as soon as Carly turned an equally warm and welcoming smile on her. “And for you?”

Ariana found herself smiling back. “What’s his usual?”

“Corona, with a slice of lime, straight from the bottle.”

“I’ll have the same but with a glass. Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” Carly said, placing two cardboard coasters on the scarred wooden table.

“I was wrong,” Logan said after Carly left.

“Wrong about what?”

“I would’ve bet a month’s salary that you’d be a wine drinker. A white—smooth and well-chilled.”

Ariana laughed. “You’re not wrong. I’ve been known to have a glass of chardonnay or sauvignon blanc now and again. Working in the field that I do, beer has become an acquired taste. Hanging around so many men, I’ve learned to enjoy a frosty glass of Corona as much as a glass of wine. So, tell me, how’d you get the nickname Jagger?”

Logan cleared his throat and his eyes darted around the room. He seemed uncomfortable with her question and appeared relieved when the waitress returned.

“Appreciate it, Carly,” he said, when she placed the bottles and glass, along with a small bowl of nuts, in front of them.

“I like adaptability in a person,” he said with a chuckle when they were alone again, gesturing to her beer.

Obviously he wanted to change the subject.

He raised his bottle and clinked it to Ariana’s glass, then took a long, slow sip. “What made you choose security as a career?” he asked.

“I thought you wanted to discuss your new procedures.”

“I do. It doesn’t mean we can’t get to know each other a little first. With Brody gone, we’re likely to be working together again.” He flashed her a smile.

Ariana placed her glass back on the coaster, reached for a candied nut, popped it in her mouth. Okay, they could play it his way. She was curious about him, too. “It matters to me to make a difference. Keeping people safe is important.”

“And why the airport?”

She tilted her head. “I’ve been fascinated by airplanes since I was a kid. My father was an engineer. He went to school in England, where his father was from. I learned about mechanics and laws of physics from an early age, but to this day I remain in awe of the fact that we can get a nearly four-hundred-thousand-pound, one-hundred-and-fifty-or sixty-foot wingspan piece of machinery, loaded with people and cargo, into the air, and it stays there over great distances.” She laughed. “Silly, I know, but flying fascinates me.”

“I never thought of it that way.” He watched her for a few moments. “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look British.”

“My grandfather was English. My grandmother, Brazilian.”

His long, contemplative gaze caused all sorts of odd sensations inside her.

“That explains it,” he said, and surprised her by touching the back of her hand. “And it explains the color of your hair. But where does the eye color come from? Your father?”

She chuckled. “My mother’s side. She’s blonde and blue-eyed, as mostly everyone is on her side of the family. American for generations, but her ancestry is Swedish.”

“That’s an interesting combination. Do your parents live in California?”

“No. They moved back to England a couple of years ago. Enough about me,” she interjected before he could ask her more questions. She didn’t want him digging any deeper, even though she found it effortless to talk to him. “What about you? Why did you become a cop?”

“I wanted to make a difference,” he said with an easy smile, echoing her own words. “I wanted to contribute in a positive way to people’s lives. And it runs in my family. Both my father and grandfather were lifers on the job. My father was the chief of police for Burbank.”

She thought his eyes were clouded with sorrow for a moment.

“My parents, my mother in particular, might have wanted for a different career for me,” he continued. “Maybe a doctor or a lawyer, but that wasn’t happening. I wanted to be a cop as far back as I can remember.”

His comment made her think of her own childhood dream of becoming a police officer, but she pushed it aside. “If you’re from Burbank, what brought you to San Diego?”

He raised a shoulder, let it drop again. “My dad was a hero. A figure larger than life. As much as I loved and admired him, I didn’t want to live in his shadow. I also wanted to know that I’d be making it on my own. Not because of who he was, what he’d accomplished or how highly people regarded him. I wanted it to be on my own merits. I wanted to build my own career.”

Ariana watched him carefully, searching for any sign of bitterness or envy, but all she saw was pride and admiration. To her, that said a lot about Logan, and it was all good. She saw a decency and a depth she hadn’t expected.

“Speaking of making a difference,” Ariana said with a smile. “What will happen to the women on Flight 396?”

Logan grunted. “Yeah, we made a big difference there! They’ve been charged, as I said. Public mischief. It’ll probably be reduced to a misdemeanor. Even before they sobered up, they were both bawling. It only got worse when their parents showed up.” The laughter was gone. “They won’t soon forget it. Nor should they.” He reached out, brushed his hand over hers again. “But it gave me a chance to meet you.”

His proximity and especially his touch triggered those sensations again. She absorbed the warmth that had come into his cool blue eyes. “There is that,” she said softly, and meant it, but she leaned back, subtly sliding her hand out from under his.

Logan reached for his bottle and took another drink. “So, will there be civil consequences for the women? They inconvenienced nearly two hundred other passengers, and the cost to the airline, the airport, not to mention the military for the fighter jet escort...” He rolled his eyes at that. “The expense has got to be substantial.”

Ariana didn’t know what to make of the feelings he was stirring up inside her and tried to remind herself of all the reasons why she wasn’t interested in him. With effort, she concentrated on the question he’d posed. “Yes, there are significant costs associated with the incident, but I don’t think there’ll be any legal action. The airline might do some posturing, mostly as a deterrent to other would-be troublemakers. They’ll have to cover costs associated with rebooking passengers who might’ve missed connecting flights to some of the outer islands and, if need be, overnight accommodations as well as the expense of bringing the plane back. Pursuing a claim against the women would cost them more money than they could hope to recover.” She shrugged. “The military escort? I have no idea how much that would’ve cost. We got confirmation that they used the incident as a training exercise, as we suspected. For the airport...” She smiled again. “It’s all in a day’s work for us. What about the police department?”

“All in a day’s work, too. For us, the real issue is that while we’re dealing with something like that, we’re not out there addressing real threats to the public. With our limited resources, it’s about trade-offs. We prioritize based on risk—likelihood and potential outcome. Though the likelihood of an explosive device being aboard that plane was deemed negligible, we couldn’t ignore it. That means we weren’t dealing with other matters.”

“I get that. There are never enough resources to do all that needs doing,” she murmured. She was thinking of her own department as much as the police.

“You’re right.”

Sipping her beer, she looked around. She watched a young couple sitting near the middle of the room and frowned.

“Hey, you with me here?”

Ariana shifted her gaze back to Logan and let out a short laugh. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s sort of a game I play, whenever I have a quiet moment in a public place.”

“What kind of game?”

This time the discomfort came through in her chuckle. “Since I was a kid, when I first decided I wanted to...” she’d been about to say “be a cop,” but caught herself “...to work in my field, I’ve tried profiling people. Maybe that’s the wrong word. I don’t mean like what law enforcement organizations do. Just reading people better, I suppose. I took a course in college, too. I do it mostly to amuse myself. It does come in handy at times in my field, though, as you can imagine. Studies have shown that profiling airport passengers based on their behaviors can be an effective adjunct to security screening. I like to watch people and try to figure out what they’re all about.”

She saw his eyes track to the couple she’d been observing. He motioned with his bottle toward them. “So, what’s their story?”

“Oh, I don’t think I want to do this. Certainly not with you!” She felt the heat on her cheeks and glanced away.

“Okay, how about I go first?”

That made her smile. “All right.”

He took a few moments to study the couple. She did the same and noted again how the man seemed to be attentive and interested, until the woman’s head was turned. Then his eyes landed on or followed the nearest female.

“They’re married, maybe five years,” Logan began. “No kids. He’s a midlevel manager. She’s probably in PR or advertising and earns more than he does. She loves him, although the shine has dulled over the years. He begrudges her some for being the higher-income earner, and he has a straying eye. Although he probably hasn’t cheated on her yet, it’s only a matter of time. He feels he’s entitled and believes he needs to do it to make himself feel more of a man.”

Her startled laugh erupted, and she put a hand over her mouth.

Logan turned incredulous eyes on Ariana. “You find that funny? That he’ll probably cheat on his wife?”

“No. No. That part is sad. It’s what you said about them. All of it.”

Logan smiled. “Are you laughing because you think it’s ludicrous or because you know I’m right?”

“The latter,” she said, still chuckling. “You’re good at this game!”

“So you agree?”

“Mostly. All the tells are there. The husband’s roving eye when she’s not paying attention. The fact that he handed her the bill when the waiter brought it, and so on.”

Logan nodded. “Now it’s your turn.”

Ariana scanned the room. She wanted to pick carefully to be as on the mark as he had been. Not only because of her competitive nature. Maybe it was silly, but it mattered that she gained his respect.

She was considering the man who’d just entered the bar when Logan motioned to the new arrival. “How about him?”

She scrutinized the tall Hispanic man standing with his back to them. “Okay,” she said. She had more or less settled on him already.

He was chatting with the occupants of a booth close to the entrance. His dark hair was longish, nearly reaching his collar. His clothes, although casual, were of good quality. Expensive. His stance and manner were confident. He was highly aware of his surroundings. When he turned his head, she could see he was attractive, but there was a dangerous—not quite tame—aura about him.

He was wearing a light windbreaker. She was experienced enough to recognize that he more than likely had a concealed weapon under it. Her smile faded and she shot a tense glance at Logan. He was watching her, heedless of the man, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Ariana leaned in. Her voice was low, her tone serious. “The man you picked? Don’t look!” she whispered as Logan’s gaze started to drift toward the man. It snapped back to her, and he had a considering expression on his face.

“He’s confident, self-aware,” she continued in an insistent whisper. “He’s not easily intimidated or one to shy away from confrontation. In some cases, he might welcome it. He seems dangerous and resigned...somehow fatalistic. He comes off as laid-back, relaxed, yet he’s intense and perceptive. He’s got money. Probably quite a lot, but he doesn’t flaunt it. My guess is he’s involved in the drug trade. Likely a drug dealer for a cartel out of Tijuana,” she concluded.

Logan started to smile and shifted his eyes again. She placed her hand hurriedly on top of his. “No. Don’t look,” she repeated urgently. “He’s carrying. I’m certain of it.” She glanced at the man. “Okay. He’s facing the other way. You can look now.”

Logan did, slowly and discreetly. Nonchalantly he took another drink, keeping his eyes in the general direction of the man they were discussing. Ariana saw the moment the man’s eyes met Logan’s. A look she couldn’t decipher passed between the two of them.

She saw the narrowing of Logan’s eyes, the tightening of his lips. A knot formed in her stomach. She wondered if the new arrival was known to Logan.

Ariana could only gape when Logan placed his bottle on the coaster, pointed a finger at the man and beckoned him to approach.

“What are you doing?” Ariana murmured uneasily.

Brows furrowed, he glanced at her briefly. “You’ll see. Just stay calm,” he added.

Ariana gazed back at the man as he sauntered up to their table. He aimed assessing eyes on her before meeting Logan’s gaze. “You want something?” he asked.

“I do. Yes,” Logan replied, leaning back in his chair.

Ariana’s heart was thundering. This close, she was more convinced that the man was carrying a gun. There was an element of fearlessness, almost recklessness, about him. She looked around quickly. The bar had filled while they’d been there. It was packed. There were people everywhere. What was Logan thinking, confronting a potentially dangerous criminal in a busy public place? If either of them drew a weapon, there were bound to be casualties.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Logan said in a tone that broached no argument, almost as if he’d read her thoughts.

Ariana nearly missed seeing the man’s mouth twitch, as if he was enjoying the confrontation that was unfolding between him and Logan. Could there have been something else going on here? Something she wasn’t aware of? Before she could explore that thought, the man slapped his palms on the table. “Good enough for you?” he asked with an amused drawl.

He found this funny? Not a good sign.

“Now, using your left hand only, empty your pockets,” Logan instructed. He tapped a finger on the tabletop in front of Ariana. “Put your possessions right there.”

What was Logan doing? Ariana wondered in alarm. Had he lost his mind? He hadn’t even identified himself as a cop. She had no time to deliberate further, as the man—surprisingly—did exactly what he’d been asked. It appeared he was enjoying himself, and that made no sense. Her earlier thought returned. Could this be a joke?

She watched the man draw objects out of his coat pocket first. A package of gum, a San Diego Padres ticket stub, a set of keys on a chain, a separate key on a Harley Davidson motorcycle key chain. When he reached for the front pocket of his jeans, Logan shot a hand out. “Easy now. Do it slowly.”

The man angled his head, seeming to be holding back a smile. He reached into his right front pocket with his left hand and slowly drew out its contents. Palming whatever he had in there, he held his hand out and let it hover over the table. He watched Logan expectantly.

Logan gestured to the small pile in front of Ariana. “Go ahead,” he encouraged.

The man spread his fingers.

Holding her breath, Ariana watched as the object clattered onto the table’s surface.

She was staring at a San Diego Police Department badge.

With narrowed eyes, she looked up at Logan.

“Ariana, meet Sergeant Rick Vasquez,” Logan said. “Rick, this is Ariana Atkins, head of security at the San Diego airport.” He motioned for Rick to take a seat.

Rick extended a hand to Ariana, which she shook briefly. He then sat in the chair next to Logan.

“Rick’s a member of the K-9 Unit,” Logan explained. “He specializes in narcotics. He’s now working with Tom Brody’s former canine partner, Nitro, and is retraining him for narcotics detection. Their job is to thwart the drug trafficking that takes place across the San Ysidro border between Mexico and the United States.”

Although Ariana had started to suspect it might have been a joke and could see the humor in it, she felt a little foolish. Logan must have realized it, as a tinge of red crept up his cheeks.

“You did great!” Logan assured her. “If Rick seems like a cartel operative, it’s with good reason. He’s supposed to. His job often requires him to go undercover.”

Logan held up his hands. “I’m sorry. Really. If it makes you feel better, you were right on with your assessment. You read Rick exactly the way a person is supposed to.”

There was no harm done. If Ariana had been in Logan’s shoes, she probably would have done the same thing. She smiled.

Rick appeared contrite, as well. “I was an accidental participant, but I apologize, too. As much as I’d love to stay, have a beer with you and find out what this was all about, I get the sense that I’m a third wheel.” He pushed out of his chair and grinned at Logan. “I’m going to leave you to each other.” Turning his smile on Ariana, he held out a hand to her again. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope our paths cross again, under more...conventional circumstances.” He rested a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “We’ll catch up tomorrow, Jagger.”

After Rick left, Logan gave Ariana a conciliatory smile. “I shouldn’t have tricked you like that. When I saw you zero in on Rick, it was just too tempting. Besides, you were right on the money. Rick has to be good enough to fool the cartel bosses—his life depends on it. If he can fool the cartel, he should be able to convince most people, including those in law enforcement.”

Logan had a point. If Rick didn’t have good cover dealing with the cartels, it could cost him his life. She glanced down at the glass in her hand, and felt the fatigue she’d been trying to stave off all day intensify. She sensed Logan’s eyes on her and looked up.

“You all right? I really didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s not that. I’m just tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Yeah, it has. We both could use an early night.” Logan pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet, much more than what two beers would’ve cost, and placed it on the table. He waved to Carly as they walked through the crowded room.

Nearing the door, Ariana suddenly turned, causing him to bump into her. This close up, his eyes were even bluer than she’d thought.

“Did you forget something?”

“Uh...we never discussed your new operating procedures.”

Logan chuckled and held the door open for her. “Good point. Rather than having you think it was a ploy to get you to go out with me, how do you feel about having dinner with me sometime soon to discuss them, so I can prove we really do have new procedures?” he asked when they’d stopped beside her car.

Ariana had enjoyed herself. Logan wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She was on the verge of saying yes when she remembered Becca.

She sensed Logan’s interest in her was more than professional and she was drawn to him—something that didn’t happen often. But if he had a girlfriend, she didn’t want to encourage him. A dinner with Logan would be more than strictly business.

She couldn’t say yes, but she couldn’t say no either, lost in those eyes of his again. “I’ll let you know,” she said, noncommittally.

As he said good-night and was about to leave, a thought occurred to her. “Was it?” she asked.

Logan paused. “Was what?”

“Was the idea of discussing your procedures a ploy? To get me to have a drink with you?”

He held her gaze for a long moment, and she could readily see his charm.

“That would’ve been conniving of me, wouldn’t it? And very unprofessional.” With a quick show of white teeth and a jaunty salute, he strode away toward his own vehicle.